More Than Detectives?
by rambling raconteur
Summary: Lassiter and Juliet try to keep a new relationship under wraps as a mysterious new case soon blooms into unforeseen magnitudes. Formerly Clog Your Arteries, updated. Lassiet.
1. Chapter 1

**First Psych fanfiction.**

**Like, ever.**

**If I screwed up, please tell me!**

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"O'Hara?"

Juliet O'Hara looked up from her desk, mouth set in an impatiently thin line. Her detective partner had been uncharacteristically calling her out multiple times for the past few hours. She found it quite difficult to focus on the recent Missing Persons report with repeated and steady interruption, but something in Carlton Lassiter's manner that day made her refrain from snapping out too sharply.

She took a breath and stood up, facing the man standing before her. This time he was tapping his feet anxiously on the linoleum floor, clicking a pen rapidly in his fist. He caught her irritable gaze and nodded.

"Yes?" she said, unnaturally evenly. Here was the moment where he usually looked about nervously for five seconds, fidgeted in the next ten, then gave a soft huff and gave a mundane excuse/question for pulling her away from work.

But this time he did not take half as long to make up his mind. He tipped a head to the hallway furtively.

"Need to speak with you," he mumbled gruffly. "In private."

She narrowed her eyes slightly at him, nodding slowly. "Sure..."

Lassiter strode quickly into the copy room and ushered O'Hara hastily in, shutting the door firmly behind them. She watched him, trying to gauge his emotions.

"I, um, was thinking," he started awkwardly. O'Hara nodded encouragingly, half just wishing that he would spill it already so she could get back to work and out of Chief Vicks radar. He brightened slightly at her raised eyebrows and blurted the rest of the words, motorboat-speed. "...ifyou'dliketohavedinnertonight?"

"W-what?" O'Hara's eyes widened. Was Lassiter actually _asking her out?_

"If you'd like to have dinner tonight," he repeated, obviously uncomfortable as his shined black shoes shifted on the floor. "W-with me, I mean."

"Um, sure, I guess," she stammered, still caught off guard. She drew a shaky breath, clearing her head. "Sure."

"Do you like the Cheesecake Factory?"

"Cheesecake Factory?"

The two leaped about three feet in the air, turning to see Shawn Spencer leering in the doorway, a familiar grin on his face.

"Oh, Lassie, Jules, you planning a party for someone again?" he said conversationally. "Who'sit? McNab? Vick's b-day was a month ago, wasn't it," he pondered. "Oh, but I'd recommend not going to the Fact'. Those foods of the gods'll clog your arteries better than a bath drain after a Persian kitty's shower."

"Since when did you care about clogging arteries?" Lassiter said snidely, almost automatically, while O'Hara's cheeks pinked almost unnoticeably. Shawn Spencer, of course, picked it up immediately.

"Oh Juliet, my Juliet, where hast thou your love now?"

"W-what," she murmured faintly. She glared at him accusingly. "Stop reading...it." she growled, covering her forehead with a hand for good measure.

"Ah, hm," Lassie raised a pleased eyebrow, while Shawn put two and two together and gaped at them, mouth opening and closing like a beached fish.

"Wow, really?" he found his voice after a moment. "I thought I was just getting vibes about your withdrawals from the Starbucks closed down." He stared at the two before shaping a heart with two hands and framing the detective partners within them, smirking quizzically. The display was quickly slapped down by a swift movement on O'Hara's part.

"Oh shut up," she muttered, though Shawn couldn't help noticing the pleased flush of pink rise over her cheeks for a moment. He winked at them as he sauntered out of the room.

"Don't eat at the Factory!" he reminded them before disappearing around the corner.

Lassiter rolled his eyes dismissively. "So?"

"How about Olive Garden?"

"You're actually _taking_ his advice?" he sputtered indignantly. Juliet only laid a hand on his shoulder, tipping her head admittedly.

"Well, he _is _a psychic."

She left the senior detective throwing his hands up and raging on with something along the lines of 'psychic, my foot'.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter twooo!**

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Carlton arrived first, ignoring curious glances at his stiffly dry cleaned suit in the relatively casual atmosphere. He sniffed approvingly at the warm air, scented of tomatoes and fresh rolls. He waited for a table, checking his watch every ten seconds, tapping his feet to the slow Italian music playing under the dull roar of conversation.

In fact, the restaurant was so full that Juliet arrived before they got a seat, much to Lassiter's uneasy chagrin. She greeted him with a bright smile, and the detective managed to keep his face from looking like a schoolboy's. She wore an orange/pink dress and bright yellow heels, her hair down in swept-back curls, easily reflecting her typical gung-ho attitude. Carlton expected himself to turn away and gag, but he found the colors oddly fitting and pretty on his date.

"Looks like its really full today," she commented lightly, sidling up next to him and looking over the masses of heads.

"For two?" A waiter piped up from her corner behind her little podium. He nodded affirmative and they managed to push through the crush to a small table near the back of the restaurant. Lassiter pulled O'Hara's seat back for her, and she smiled, gratified.

O'Hara picked up the menu, reading it over, but Lassiter stared around casually, sneaking long, hungry stares at her when he thought she wasn't looking. He thought about what Chief Vick would say of her wardrobe today and let a small grin lift on his face.

"Hey," Juliet snapped her fingers in his face and he started, shaking the smile quickly off his face. She looked amused. "Stop staring and figure out what you're gonna eat."

"Right," he said, barely glancing at the laminated paper in front of him. "Uh, you want wine?"

"Sure," she said, gazing up at the ceiling absentmindedly. He admired her gold-streaked hair and large blue eyes for a happy moment before waving a waiter over.

He ordered his food and wine, and so did she. The waiter swept away, and there was an uncomfortable silence, or at least that's what Carlton felt it was. Juliet cleared her throat.

"So, um, Carlton," she started, and he looked up in surprise. "Tell me about yourself, you know. I've always known you as 'head detective Lassiter'."

He tried a smile. "Erm, well, I've had a divorce, as you might know," he spoke awkwardly. Juliet smiled sympathetically but shook her head.

"Hey, focus on the good side," she recommended. He straightened in his seat decisively, nodding his head once.

"Right. A date is not a time to dwell on past mistakes." he declared. Juliet sighed, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes.

"Do you have any hobbies?" she prodded gently. Carlton winced slightly.

"I, um..." he reddened slightly. "Fish. Like, fishing. And, um, skeeball, I guess I'm pretty good at." he shifted uncomfortably. She grinned widely.

"What about bowling?" she said with a raised eyebrow.

"Bowling? Oh, not too difficult I guess." He leaned back in his chair impressively. "Knocking down pins with a ten-pound ball, not too difficult, I'd bet. Now, skeeball, that takes a certain eye." Carlton waggled a serious finger, but Juliet only laughed.

"Oh, sure." she scoffed. "It's not just skeeball on a bigger scale or anything, you know."

"Ah, Jules," he shook his head, mock-sorrowfully. She froze for a moment in surprise. He noticed immediately, sitting up. "What? Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no," she relaxed. "It's just...I'd never expect it to be like this." she admitted with a sheepish grin. "Plus, you just called me Jules."

He gaped for a moment. "I did?" he looked around furtively, perhaps expecting the restaurant to have frozen in similar horror. He leaned back again, looking up at the ceiling and covering his face with his hands "My god. Damn Spencer."

She laughed, like music to his tired ears. "Oh, it's okay, go ahead, call me anything," she waved a dismissive hand. "Just don't call me O'Hara."

There was a comfortable silence as the food was put on their table and they began to eat. Juliet held up her wineglass, and they clinked them together in the hubub around them.

"Won't this complicate matters at work?" commented Carlton after a sip of red wine. Juliet winced, shaking her head vigorously, setting her glass back on the table.

"Don't...don't think about work now, just don't," she said firmly. She made eye contact with the man across the table, who fidgeted uncomfortably again. "Tonight is a date, not a night shift. We are going to have _fun_ and I am not going to let you ruin it for both of us, okay?" she waited for his reluctant response.

"Fine."

"So, tell me, how was your day?" she tried. He tipped his head accusingly at her.

"We're coworkers, O'H-Juliet," he quickly corrected himself. "We worked on the same case today."

"Well then, how was your side of the day?" she said, without missing a beat.

He gave a sideways glance in her direction, wondering why the hell he had asked her out in the first place. _Damn feelings. Just won't stay out of the way, will it?__  
_

"Just let go of it," she advised. "Just talk."

"Well, we got the Missing Persons report," he started slowly. "And first of all, the names was filed in the wrong alphabetical order." he gritted his teeth at the 'painful' memory. "Ugh. Parsons _after_ Perry?"

"Mmm," she nodded helpfully. "Not on mine."

"Ah, I bet Spencer had something to do with it," Carlton muttered. "Anyways, so I was starting to do a background check on these guys-by the way, they're a bunch of drunkheads, probably just got lost without gas somewhere in San Fran or something," he wrinkled his nose distastefully, now speaking a bit more animatedly. He took a sip of wine, starting to gesticulate to his earnest words. "When my damn Internet connection shuts off! Like, what the hell?"

"Really?" Juliet said. He kept eye contact during the whole speech, and she found herself studying his firm-set blue eyes, the special expression that was rarely seen on his face now blooming, his hands, waving and gesturing in the air. She leaned on an elbow, forgetting table manners, grinning faintly and half-taking in his words, half-taking in his sudden and unexpected attractiveness.

"...and of course IT can't fix it, can they? No, of course not. Then, you know, Spencer's best buddy Gus passes by, and it works! I mean, I wasted two hours on it, asked half the station about it, then Guster comes in, _done!_"

"So that's what you were asking me about," she laughed. "Over and over again, huh?"

"Well, not the same question." he shrugged.

"Don't you owe Gus a thank you then?" she reprimanded lightly.

"I already did," he mumbled gruffly. She glared at him disbelievingly. "Kind of."

"Oh, be nice," she chided. He looked up at her, smiling hesitantly, and she reached out a hand across the table, placing it on his. He looked down at it with mild surprise, but decided to 'roll with it', as Shawn Spencer would say. He w_as kind_ of enjoying this, anyhow...

"So, how was your day?"

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	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

**Thanks for reading, reviewing, and, oh, I don't own Psych.**

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"Hey, Carlton, I found records on Parson."

"Oh he's _Carlton_ now, isn't he?" Shawn Spencer imitated her tone, sounding like a lovestruck fangirl perhaps ten times the emphasis than what had originally been said as.

"Yes, I am." Lassiter turned around, pulling Juliet to his side. She glanced up at him in mild shock, but managed a smile at Shawn and Gus.

"Ah, you're a lucky man, Lassie," Shawn sighed, leaning against the wall. "A great catch. If only I had the right tackle, teeth, claws. Meow. Not a tux cat, sorry. Tabby, though, if that's your taste." He winked flirtatiously at the Junior Detective, stretching his 'claws' and successfully making her giggle and her partner disgruntled.

"And what is up with you and your cat jokes, Shawn?" Gus asked irritably.

"Why? You _purr-_fer it?"

"No! They're horrible."

"What's the matter with Gus?" Juliet commented half-heartedly.

"Oh, just horrified that he missed out on such a _beaut,_" the psychic rested a hand her shoulder, leaning in to whisper confidentially, though he spoke loudly, purposefully. "Don't mind him, easily jealous."

She snickered with him as Carlton brushed Shawn's hand off of her shoulder possessively.

"Hey, leave Detective O'Hara alone," he said, tipping his head forwards in his signature serious mumble-growl, except with a hint of triumph. "She's Lassiter's now."

"Excuse me?" she turned to face him with half disapproval, half incredulity. "_Lassiter's_? I belong to _no one_, Lassiter, get that straight and learn some respect, plus we're only dating..."_  
_

"And now we're back to Lassiter again, aren't we," Shawn mumbled out of the side of his mouth as the duo quickly melted away so to not become witness of a conflict nobody wanted to see.

"And you sound like a teenager." he said offhandedly, immediately launching Juliet into another heated speech as she followed him into his desk. He grabbed the coffee mug from a slightly stunned McNab who had opened his mouth, but finding that the Head Detective's ears already occupied, closed his mouth and grinned childishly at the couple making their progress down the crowded hall.

"...Three dates does _not_ mean lovers, Carlton, and-"

"Okay, okay," he cut her off with a pacifying tone, and she huffed frustratingly but was stopped by a raised palm. "I'm sorry. Now, unless you have remembered what you were about to report before that Spencer interrupted, please return to your desk, O'Hara."

"Juliet."

"What?"

"If you're Carlton, I'm Juliet."

"Of course," he said, placing a hand against the nape of her neck, feeling tempted to pull her lips to his. She sulked up at him, but he only smiled, marveling inwardly at her large, bright blue eyes. "_Juliet_, now, what were you saying?"

"Lassie? Jules?" Shawn's (unwanted) voice peeped out from Chief Vick's office. He gagged mockingly at their acts and prodded a thumb to the office.

The two stepped in, O'Hara pressing her usual bun back, cheeks tinted slightly. Lassiter, however, made his way across the room until Spencer and Guster stood between the two. He tried to act nonchalant, but an odd feeling of guilt weighed him down.

"The families of the Missing Persons have become increasingly alarmed," Karen Vick spoke after they had assembled, handing out files. "They believe that the sons are in danger with a few business, erm, _rivals_ that have been known to commit foul play in the past."

"But why are _they _here?" Carlton Lassiter indicated the psych-duo with annoyance.

Vick shifted a bit uneasily in her seat, peering out at the front lobby.

"Well, the family has a, how to say, _trust_ in psychics and mind readers?" Shawn's eyes lit up immediately, and his mouth began to stretch into a devious simper. "They personally asked for Mr. Spencer and Mr. Guster, leading with the Santa Barbara Police Force."

"Score!" Shawn fist-bumped Guster, offered one to Juliet, who returned it, shrugging, one to Lassiter, who simply glared disbelievingly at them all, and to Chief, who shook her head impatiently but took the offer, much to the Head Detective's dismay.

"Come on, Karen you aren't going to just let _them_ take charge of the case!" he blurted indignantly. "O'Hara and I are _much_ capable of catching a bunch of rich-kid crackheads on our own!"

There was a cold silence and Carlton drew back immediately.

"What have I warned you, Detective, about respect and controlling your emotions?" she spoke icily, and Carlton nodded rapidly in apology. Juliet put a hand to her forehead, Shawn and Gus snickering between themselves.

"Very, very sorry about my incorrect actions," he said quickly, glancing coldly in the direction of the laughing. "However you _might_ find that some of my actions are quite provoked-" he jerked a warning fist as they began silently reenacting the previous scene, looking pleadingly to Karen and Juliet.

"All right, Mr. Spencer, Guster, that is enough," Vick shooed them away with a hint of a smile. "But Detectives, please remain."

She waited until the door had shut behind them and nodded to the chairs, observing the brief exchange of uneasy looks between the two and silent mouthing.

"Ahem," they both straightened, eyes wide and focused. "I'd like to address an, issue, then, nip it in the bud, I suppose," she began. "I have heard that you two have begun a, say...romantic relationship." O'Hara's mouth opened and closed with no sound, while Lassiter whirled around in his seat and snarled quiet obscenities at the Psych team plastered at the window. Chief stared firmly at the two for a moment, and eventually they left.

"I am very happy for you, don't get me wrong," Karen continued. "However, as you may know, the workplace is not a place for personal relationships."

"Yes maam, nothing to worry," Lassiter nodded firmly. "My dedication is always with my job."

"And Detective O'Hara?"

"Hm? Oh!" she shook her head slightly, dragging her eyes away from the person seated beside her. "O-of course, Chief. No fooling around, got it."

"Thank you," she eyed the two, apparently entertained. "And, good luck."

"What does that mean?" Juliet commented under her breath in confusion as they exited the office. Lassiter gaped at her in disbelief, sputtering for a few moments about the incident before the meeting before giving it up and shaking his head.

"Just get back to work, Juliet, and report when you find the rest of the records."

"Okay," she said in her usual cheerful attitude, prancing away but not before pecking a quick kiss on his cheek. "See you later."

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	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you for reading and reviewing! I don't own Psych or the characters, I just play with them. :)**

**Chapter Four**

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"I believe psychics are a second god."

Shawn Spencer leaned back in his chair, a faint smile on his face. Gus rolled his eyes in disbelief, while Chief and O'Hara regarded the client with raised eyebrows, exchanging uneasy looks. Lassiter's mouth opened and closed silently before giving up and placing his face in his hands.

"And, Ms. Remmler, you may be correct," the psychic praised her, and the large-bosomed, red haired, pale skinned woman of maybe her early to mid-forties nodded vigorously, taking his outstretched hand with reverence. "The spirits..." the woman straightened up, eyes widening to the size of saucers as he put his hand to his forehead. "They tell me you have quite a rambunctious dog with you...black haired...lavatory, no...laboratory...lab! You have a black-haired labrador retriever that has been causing you much grief!" She gasped loudly, laughing and crying and rolling about in her chair. "I'd recommend, for your own hands' sake," he spoke softly now. "that you switch to leather leashes. They don't burn."

"Oh, thank you, thank you." she stammered, leaning back and immediately releasing her grasp on his hand. Her eyes darted to the others in the room.  
"W-why, all of you must be so _honored_ to work with such a...such a wonder!"

"How'd you find out?" Gus mumbled.

"Short black hairs up to her knees, red nylon burn on her palms and fingers." he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, quite," Lassiter responded dryly to her earnest words. "Please, Ms. Remmler, could you tell us everything you know about your missing sons. Any history of this kind of behavior, illegal drinking, street drug ha-"

"Be sensitive!" Juliet elbowed him sharply in the ribs. He whirled around, but did not say anything and turned back slowly, smiling and giving a sarcastic nod. She tried her old 'smile, chuckle and cover up Lassiter's screw up' method. "What he means, is if you've noticed any patterns indicating this kind of behavior."

"Oh, huh?" she tore her hungry eyes away from Spencer, face dazed. "Uhm, no, they were really just normal before this all happened. They're good boys."

"Could you tell us what happened?"

"Well, it was a Tuesday night, but the kids were out at a friends house for what seemed too long. I tried calling both of their cells from maybe 10:45, but they didn't pick up. They took their car, too. Called the police, and here I am." She sighed melodramatically, leaning back and placing a hand on her forehead, eyes darting in Spencer's direction.

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"Well, didn't seem too concerned about her own sons, did she?" O'Hara commented delicately as they made the walk back from the rather short and useless interview.

"Yeah. Kind of fishy I guess, but all we've got now is a bunch of loose ends." Carlton grimaced. "Vick isn't going to be too happy."

"Nope," Juliet sighed, shrugging. "We still have interviews with the brothers' friends in the evening though," she reminded him, smiling slightly at his stressed-face. "Don't sweat it."

"Yeah." But honestly, for Lassiter her saying that just made it worse. For some reason he felt pushed to perform better, impress O'Hara with his diligence. Not that she'd need reminding, but it wouldn't hurt...

They returned to their desks, Juliet tracing the said phone calls and Carlton scanning old and new police records from around the area. They worked for a while, both of their minds wandering to, of course, the other.

"Bad news," Lassiter drew up next to Juliet's desk after a few hours of work, holding a fresh paper file in his hand. "Perry's dead."

"Dead?" Juliet stood up, grabbing her handbag.

"Found 8:23 PM in a ravine along Harrison Boulevard. One shot to the head," they began walking towards the entrance. "IDed, obviously."

They got in Carlton's car, following the police cars in front of them, but it did not take long at all to reach the site.

O'Hara got out of the car first, slamming the car door behind her and looking around. A large, abandoned warehouse stood in the background, a few straggly trees, but other than that there was a relatively large field of wild grass and a farm next door. The street was a slow one, almost no cars passing at all, as the pavement was breaking down and the route long and lonely.

Forensics, as well as police and locals were grouped around a dip in the ditch, and the detectives drew forwards, Lassiter murmuring and holding up a badge to get through, pushed ahead, O'Hara tailing.

"A clean job," Carlton murmured expressionlessly, crouching down and tipping his own head to observe the small bullet hole in the victim's temple, and none on the other side of the head. "Still lodged in the brain, presumably."

"I...I sense anger..."

Lassiter whirled around, a flash of irritation immediately taking over as he inevitably saw the Psych-team of two huddled near the body. Shawn smiled, waggling a few fingers in what the detective thought was an insufferably childish wave. He was about to apparently speak when he jerked, scrambling backwards, right into his sidekick Guster, groaning and twitching. O'Hara sneezed, but nobody said bless you as they all watched the 'psychic' have a rather violent episode.

He staggered back and forth in the ravine before the body, repeatedly groaning 'heavy...heavy...too fat.' Guster caught him as he nearly fell headfirst into the ditch, eyes suddenly flashing open with a familiar look of astonished triumph.

"I sense that whoever had dumped this body was not able to carry him well," he snapped his fingers. "Yes...the person was dragging the body, trying to position it correctly...but why?" He suddenly sprinted into the middle of the road, running down the sticky asphalt and started to mime driving a car down the lane. He stopped when he reached them, raising a finger. "They did it well, you can't see him from the far side of the road! But...the perp. got lazy...hmmm-mm. Why didn't she just pull the body another meter and a half up the other side of the gorge and into the bush?" He gasped, eyes closing, groaning as he mimed dragging a heavy object around. "Then they wouldn't be able to see it from the close lane. Nope, I'm getting vibrations that the perpetrator was..." He spun and spun around until he collapsed right into a bewildered Juliet who staggered under his weight. His eyelids flew up again, tipping his head back until it rested on the junior detective's shoulder, nose brushing her right cheek as he whispered loudly. "...a woman."

"All right, that's enough," Lassiter snapped, stepping in and shoving the psychic off of his partner rather roughly, shuffling closer to Juliet. "Keep out of the way, Spencer, and I will not, I repeat, _not_," he leaned closer, eyebrows lowering with his voice. "have you _titillate_ my partner."

Shawn snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, you aren't _engaged_ or anything." he purred, pouting.

"You keep us out of this." Lassiter snapped. Juliet noted how he pushed her back slightly and acknowledged themselves as _us. _She wasn't sure whether to be flattered or offended at his sudden act of mighty-protector.

"That is enough." Chief Vick stepped through the crowd, silencing the feud with a cold glare, Spencer looking up at the sky and singing under his breath that 'he was the one that started it'. "And Detectives, if your relationship is going to get in the way of you line of duty, I'm afraid I'll have to force you to choose between the two."

Carlton looked stricken, perhaps just realizing the consequences of the pair, while Juliet sighed, nodding, stepping away from the Head Detective to emphasize her point.

The rest of the afternoon was spent gathering evidence and searching the rest of the area for clues. Few showed up, but the crew knew that Spencer and his sidekick Guster were up to something when they began snooping about again. Nobody bothered them.

Normally a case like this would attract both detectives' attentions, but they were very much occupied by their own personal problems. They stepped out of the police station at closing time, but O'Hara grabbed his hand, dragging them into the shadows before falling tiredly into his arms. He regarded her with mild shock for a moment before returning the gesture, wholeheartedly wrapping his arms around her smaller frame and pressing his lips to the top of her head.

"How are we going to do this?" she said softly as they pulled away. Carlton could see her beautiful, wide blue eyes, shining in the yellow streetlamps behind them, her soft skin of her forearms pressed against his own roughened palms. Oh, how he wanted to kiss those perfect, slightly-pouted lips, just let it happen already...

"We'll manage," he whispered back, taking in her every feature in the dim gold light, the shadow her nose cast across her left cheek, the slight shimmer her blonde-brown hair gave in her usual high bun. "We'll manage."

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	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I don't own a crumb of Psych. I don't even have a pineapple in the kitchen.**

**Thanks for reading!**

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It was the next morning when the police forces began working frantically. Juliet and Carlton barely had time to exchange any words not related to work throughout the bustling morning. Time was running short when Shawn and Gus burst into Chief Vick's office.

"Mr. Spencer!" she thundered, standing up.

"Wait, wait, Chief, I have an explanation," Shawn held up a hand. "Please, just listen." Karen sat down slowly in her rolling chair, eyes narrowing.

"Chief, if Spencer's bothering you-" Lassiter burst in, shortly followed by O'Hara. Vick threw her hands up in exasperation.

"Please, Detectives, we cannot have anybody distracted on this urgent case," the Chief snapped.

"I was only suggesting that we suspend Spencer from becoming involved in this-"

"Oh! Oh, god, oh god," Shawn gasped, shaking, trembling, back in a 'trance'. Lassiter made a frustrated noise, but the rest of the occupants of the room listened in. "The spirits, they're urging me. They're _angry!_Oh, have mercy." he moaned, lashing about and striking Lassiter in the process, who stepped back, irritated. "Angry that _nobody_ would suspect such a cold-blooded killer!" His eyelids flew open, and Gus opened a paper map on cue. A hand trailed across the surface, making the paper shake until it traced along Harrison Boulevard, right to the end of the obscure street.

"The farm," Spencer whispered. "Nobody would have suspected, a mile and a half down. Just an old farmer and his wife and kids. Typical. Typical until you consider that this residence is the _only_ one left! Nobody goes on the street unless they're on a detour from the adjacent intersecting one, Amber Lane. Which is also why Mr. Farmer here didn't bother to pull the body into the bush! Nobody goes down the right side, away from the farm, other than himself. The body was pulled just _after_ the intersection, maybe ten meters away. Somebody was tired." He snapped his fingers, immensely pleased with himself as he leaned back against a cabinet.

"Finished?" Carlton retorted sharply. "Then may I burst your bubble and say that the plan _failed?_Somebody _did_ find it, and not one who was going down from the farm."

"Yes. It was an electricity line handyman, fixing the pole near the body when it was found. Something that the perpetrator could _not_ have predicted, presumably." Shawn nodded, admittedly smugly, glancing at Juliet with a wink.

"But before you had stated that it was a woman." Chief Vick raised an eyebrow. Shawn nodded, clearing his throat in acknowledgement.

"Yes. The victim was, as the autopsy reports stated, only about 115 pounds, not heavy at all, the poor thing. A man would probably easily be able to pull it around unless he was weaker. Nail marks were found in the skin, but not DNA because the person was wearing thin gloves, probably latex. Neat, nail marks. A woman's nail marks, probably fresh from the salon. The farmer, being a coward, has his wife pull the body into the ravine, not himself."

"There are men who get mani's," Gus said, affronted.

"Yeah, just you," the psychic cracked. "Anyways-"

"Actually, a hair was found on the body that was not the victims, a blond one on a brown-haired man." Chief cut in. "It's been confirmed that it was male, but a full DNA check may take another 24 hours."

"There's no _time_, Chief!" he hopped up and down urgently. "I have a hunch about this, really."

Vick contemplated him doubtfully for a moment before turning to Lassiter. "Do you have any leads so far?"

"We, um," he started, glancing at Juliet desperately, who only shrugged.

"Fine, Spencer," Chief Vick snapped. "What do you need from us then?"

"Oh, um just the whole crew."

"The whole police department? Please, Mr. Spencer—"

"No, no, maam, you're sorely mistaken," he shook his head. He inclined a head towards the occupants of the office. "Us."

"Nope, nope, nope, I am _not_ working with Spencer—"

"Carlton," Juliet caught up with his speedwalking away from the office, jogging with the folder under her arm. "There's no _time_, Carlton, you have to admit that this is our only lead." She pulled his arm, forcing him around to meet her eyes. "Be lenient, okay? Just…" she got an idea. "Do it for me. Okay?"

He clenched his jaw, taking in her fraught expression. "Fine. For you, not for the fraud."

Her facial features relaxed, and she smiled, patting his shoulder. "I knew you had it in you."

She dashed back to the Chief's office, Gus, Shawn, and Karen Vick sitting in chairs expectantly. "He's going."

"Oh, goodie," Shawn rubbed his hands together, pleased. He turned his gaze to her, smirking. "Bet it wasn't too difficult."

"Well done, Detective O'Hara," Vick smiled slightly at her flushed cheeks. "Perhaps this relationship is a benefit."

"Yeah." Juliet giggled breathlessly.

"You're all dismissed," Chief nodded to them, and the Psych team left. "And O'Hara?"

"Yes?" she turned around again.

"Try to loosen him up, you know?"

She smiled giddily at her boss's knowing small grin. Rushing out and gathering her things to follow Shawn, Gus, and Lassiter, she wondered yet again how she had managed to get in this position.

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**Reviews keep me writing, dears.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Don't own psych, but love to play around with it. Thanks for R&R!**

* * *

"Okay, what's the plan?" Juliet followed the rest out to the parking lot, face red from running in her heels. Shawn turned around, smiling.

"Glad you asked, Miss Jules. We...need to go to federal prison."

"What!?" Lassiter sputtered, and the junior detective stared. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I told him," Gus muttered, looking up at the sky.

"There's somebody we need to meet there," Shawn said quickly. "Gus and I tried to talk to Mrs. Remmler again, but she wasn't any help. How-_ever_..." he held up a palm with words scrawled in blue pen. "She did mention that her husband was in federal prison."

Carlton snapped his fingers suddenly. "Ugh. That's why I recognized the name...Remmler," the group's gazes were turned on him now. "I was the one who locked him up."

"You were?" Juliet raised her eyebrows. "Under what charges?"

"Lots of little things, but the main one was murder," he shrugged, trying to look humbly nonchalant but failing to keep a small grin on his face. Juliet nodded, returning the smile slyly before realizing what had been said.

"Murder?!" she whirled around, facing Spencer. "Why didn't you tell us before? We could have run a background check, might have gotten all the information we needed!" She stiffened, making a quick decision and turning around to mount the steps up to the station again.

"Uh, wait, Jules, it may not yield much-" the psychic raised a hand, calling after her.

"Go ahead then, I'll run a check, pick up your phone when I call." she responded, pushing into the building. Spencer turned to Guster and Lassie, shrugging.

"Looks like it's just the guys then." he winked. Lassiter muttered irritably about something, about to get in his car.

"W-wait, Lassie, where you going?" Shawn poked his head out the Blueberry's driver window.

"Going in my car." he snapped.

"You don't even know the address!" he chuckled. "Come on, Lassobear, come here. Let's have man-time, the three of us. A road trip, if you will."

"Don't listen to him, the address is 3600 G-" Gus called before being abruptly interrupted by Shawn Spencer's hand slapped over his mouth.

"Come on," he laughed. "No, seriously, or else I'm telling Juliet what you got for her Valentines Day present-"

Lassiter mouthed a thousand silent obscenities, head whipping around to check if Juliet was still there before slamming the car door and stomping to the Blueberry.

"How-did-you-know!?" he growled under his breath before crawling into the backseat. The driver shrugged, starting up the little car's engine.

"Mind-vibes, detective. Try learning how to control them," he said, simpering. He put a hand to his head. "See, I've been sensing a _lot_ from you, yes...oooh, you're smitten aren't you." He shook his head amusedly before flinching. "Ugh, never knew you had such an _imaginative_ mind, Head Detective..."

"Oh shut up and drive." he growled from the back, though his cheeks were conspicuously red.

The ride was quiet for the first (blissful) minutes. Then, much to Carlton's dismay, Shawn spoke.

"So...Juliet, huh?" he murmured conversationally. "Didn't that other detective...Lucy-what's-her-face, get fired because you two were...eloping?" he smirked.

"Her name was Detective Lucinda Barry, and it was only a transfer," he snapped. "And don't speak badly of her. She died."

"She...did?" Shawn shivered. "Oh, may her soul rest in peace. But, aren't you worried the same will happen to Jules?"

"What!" Lassiter growled, firing up. "How dare you suggest that O'Hara'd-"

"No no no no, no," Shawn shook his head vigorously. "Do you think I want to even _think_ about her...dying? No. I mean if she gets transferred."

"Oh," he relaxed slightly, but still seemed very edgy. "Well..." he hesitated. "We're doing our best to keep this...out of the workplace."

"Mmmhm," he muttered pensively. "Oh, whoops." he made a left turn from an illegal lane, and an eruption of honking ensued. "Sorry, sorry guys, have a murderer to talk to."

"Why are you even interested about us?" Carlton muttered, looking down at his hands.

"Because," Spencer responded in a patient, patronizing tone. "I care about Juliet. And you." he looked at him from the rearview mirror. "Aaand I don't want you two getting hurt."

"Awww." Lassiter smiled sarcastically. "That's sweet, but it'd help if you'd keep your nose out of our business!"

"Of course, of course." he raised a defensive hand. "Don't worry. I'm not after her or anything."

"Oh really, well it really seems like you're having fun now," Lassie muttered uncomfortably, shifting in his seat.

"Hm?" he asked nonchalantly, putting the vehicle on cruise control and popping open a Coke. "Ah. Nah, just fooling around. We're all friends, brah. Friends."

"Don't call me 'brah'." he snapped. "And just keep off of her, okay?"

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"Want a gummy bear?" Gus asked, trying to break the ice, but was cut off with a prompt and irritated negative.

Carlton's phone buzzed. He picked up on the first ring.

"O'Hara, what do you have for us?" he said automatically.

"_Juliet_ has found some dist-_urb-_ing information," she intoned, a hint of playfulness in her tone. He glanced at the men in the front seat, leaning back and murmuring in a low voice.

"Spit it," he moaned. "They're driving me crazy on this road to hell."

There was a soft chuckle on the other side, and the cop crammed in the Blueberry could easily imagine the detective's half smile. "Well, like you said. Remmler is serving a life sentence for burglary, theft, carjacking, assault, and first degree murder," O'Hara read off smoothly. "Didn't even try to plead innocent. Just went off saying that he did."

"Yup, I remember that," he murmured, rolling the window down slightly and spitting a gum out onto the freeway. "Arrogant bastard."

"Well, I was doing some more digging," she said wryly. "And found out that Mrs. Remmler has been notorious for acting out with a few mental illnesses in the past, right after her husband was caught."

"Well, that's not surprising at all," Lassiter mumbled. "Get to the point, sweet."

"...Sweet?" she laughed. "Okay, um..." the vision of the junior detective persisted in Carlton's mind with a slightly flustered Juliet now. "The point is that she actually got in trouble for going crazy on a visit to her husband at the prison. Witnesses reported that she was going off about how she'll 'get these bastards back' and that 'she knows where he hid it'."

"Hm," he sniffed. "Well done O-Juliet."

"Thank you," she sounded gratified. "Should I come down there too?"

"Eh, it's about..." he leaned forwards, peering at the new navigator anchored down to the dash. "Sixty miles or so from where you are, we've only been driving for ten minutes, it'll take another hour." He groaned. "Damn it, O'Hara, couldn't you have checked it out on your phone or something?"

"Carlton, it can't be that bad-"

"Juliet, he's asking about _us!_"

"Put me on speakerphone," she sighed. He winced, but complied. "Hey, Shawn, Gus."

"Suuup, Jules?" Shawn sighed.

"How are you, Juliet?" Gus pulled on a pair of shades, resting his forearm on the car door.

"Doing good, thanks," her voice came over the airwaves, slightly twisted. "So you're heading to the Lompoc Penitentiary, huh?"

"Yup. Tiniest hamlet in SoCal. How many people, Burtty-boy?"

"Excuse me?" Gus blurted, affronted. "It is Burton Guster, and the population of Lompac is 42,724, eleven and a half square miles."

"Right, sorry McFlickack the Forty-Second." the psychic shrugged.

"Should I follow?" she inquired patiently.

"Nope. Stay where you are," Shawn spoke up as they rattled over a bumpy patch of asphalt. "We may need more assistance from your research, luv."

"Spencer," Lassiter growled warningly.

"Shawn, don't mess with him," the junior detective's voice rang out. The crew could easily picture the amused exchange of looks that would have happened if the woman was present. "He's crabby today."

"Hey-wha-" Carlton stammered in disbelief.

"Hey," she said in a lower voice, and he toggled back the speakerphone, raising the device back to his ear. "They're just playing." There was a frank pause. "What's the matter with you?" She was mostly teasing but there was a hint of concern in her tone.

"I'm fine," he assured her gently. "Talk to you later, okay?"

"Alright," she said, and the line went dead. He dropped the phone back on his lap and stared out the window, bracing himself for the next hour-long commute/torture ahead of him.

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**Reviews please?**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Don't own psych, but love to play around with it. Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

**Oh, and note about the prison stated here; yes, there is actually a federal correctional pentientiary in Lompoc, CA, 60 miles away from the SBPD building, but it only houses low to medium security inmates, for mild crimes. I have, for the sake of this fanfic, stretched the truth somewhat to say that it has a high-security correctional wing also. And, also, it _is_ a pretty lux place, at least for prison standards. Seriously. It had tennis courts that were shut down a few years ago. cx**

* * *

Carlton got out of the car, stretching his stiff limbs from the tiny blue vehicle and cracking his sore neck. He pulled out his smartphone, quickly composing a short text message to O'Hara and looking up at the sight before the three.

A large white series of buildings sprawled over acres, shining, squeaky clean. There was a faint splashing and sounds of talking and laughing from the back, and if Lassiter was not mistaken, the pen put off to the right side seemed to be a closed-down tennis court.

"This is a resort, not a prison," he mumbled in disbelief. Spencer clapped his hands together, shrugging.

"Well, now I know where to be transferred to if I happen to murder a man," he grinned. "Let's go."

The phone buzzed in Lassiter's palm and he pulled it up to eye level.

**_~This place is ridiculous. There's tennis courts and I can hear a swimming pool_.**

_~but the question is if its heated. lol_

He rolled his eyes inwardly, following Gus and Shawn into the building.

_**~Going in. Wish me luck.**_

_~have fun ^^_

Fun? he frowned, stuffing his device into a pocket and trotting to be the one first through the door.

* * *

The man sat down at the table, staring boredly at the occupants on the other side. His eyes traveled over a nervous Gus, contemplative Shawn, and over, stopping at Carlton Lassiter. His eyes narrowed coldly, but he spoke.

"Hello." he rasped shortly, deep set lines in his face moving slowly with his drawl. The orange jumpsuit shifted slightly, and the man's dark gray eyes fixed themselves on Lassiter's with a threatening, brooding intensity.

"Hellooo?" Spencer leaned into his red telephone. "Yeah. Hi. I'm Shawn Spencer, psychic detective, and my partner, MickFlippetyflap Dooeyboots." Gus gave a small wave. "And this fine gentleman here is-"

"Carlton Lassiter." his voice growled lowly, grinding his teeth once like a cross bull. He breathed roughly, fists clenched momentarily. Carlton gulped slightly but kept his ground, nodding ever so slightly, returning the hard glare.

"Didn't think I'd need to talk to you again, Remmler." he tried impassively. There was a brief cold staredown before Shawn whistled loudly and the prisoner winced, pressing his ear.

"Sir, we'd like to ask a few questions-" he started primly.

"The case is closed," he cut him off. "This copper put me here. The end, what more you you want." he set his jaw malevolently.

"I'm afraid your sons have gone missing," Gus tried delicately. There was a flash of disbelief registered on the inmate's countenance. "A-and one was found...dead."

"What!" he roared, bolting to his feet. The metal chair went flying backwards and two guards standing at attention closed in, slamming the man to the floor with clinical ease. The group on the other side collectively winced. A pair of cuffs were clicked onto his wrists, then clipped to a ring on the table, and a vague image of Yang chained similarly in the past drifted in and out of Shawn's head.

"Which son of a bitch was it?" he snarled, sitting back down at a returned chair.

"Perry," Shawn said, pursing his lips in fake sorrow. "And you do realize you just called your wife an unaltered female dog?"

"Well that's what she is," he growled roughly, slamming an irate, trembling fist on the metal tabletop. "A bitch. Don' mean nothing against Perry."

The three stiffened, ears pricked. Lassiter grabbed the opportunity. "What makes you feel this way?"

The man's head whipped up, teeth bared slightly at the detective's voice. He stared for a moment before dropping the act, suddenly raggedly tired.

"She's insane. And not just figuratively, literally. Except she won't help herself or go to a psychiatrist," he groaned irritably. "Well, doesn't matter anymore now. Amy ain't here."

He took the plastic cup of water, gulping it down completely and letting it fall from his fingers, rolling in circles on the concrete floor. "Tried to say that I weren't guilty. That idiot," he shook his head impatiently. "The evidence was on the table. No point, and I was tired of it. Tired of her. Only reason I stayed was for the boys. Good boys," his voice wavered painfully, and an unfamiliar pang of sympathy hit Carlton. He regarded himself incredulously. How could he suddenly be so weak to this guilty man's laments? "Wouldn't ever do anything stupid. Wouldn't run 'way. I know the boys." He shook his head sorrowfully. "I know them."

"Mr. Remmler, we are very sorry for your loss," Gus said sincerely, beads of sympathy sweat building on his forehead. "But we are trying to find them, and it would very much help if you could tell us anything you know about the Mason family."

"Masons?" he raised his eyebrows quizzically. "Mmm...ah. The farmers or the insurance seller?"

"Erm, the farmers," the psychic confirmed. "We believe that they may be a connection to this..."

"Eh. They're okay people," he mumbled lazily, back to his bored demeanor. "Used to buy eggs from them. Good eggs."

The three exchanged uneasy glances, and Shawn and Gus started a familiar hissing-whisper fight.

"Um, anything else?" Gus won out this time. The older man pressed his lips together in thought, shrugging.

"The momma's a realtor, actually. Bought our house with 'er," he sniffed, smiling faintly. "Pretty gal. Was on my list of ones to take-"

"All right, that's enough," Lassiter stood up, checking his watch smartly. "We need to go now."

"Keep me posted about Parson and the bastard murderer," he pleaded, trying to stand only to be jerked back down by his shackles. "Tell me."

"You're a murderer too, Remmler," Carlton spat. "Killed seven innocent, unsuspecting women. Now you understand." He started to walk away, stopping when he realized that the Psych-team was not following. "Come on." he growled irately, irritated that they had foiled his impressive exit.

"We will find Parson Remmler," Shawn said firmly, returning the killer's strong gaze. "We won't let him die."

* * *

The Blueberry's engine started up, the trio back in the vehicle when Lassiter finally burst out.

"Why did you _reassure_ the criminal?" he said incredulously. "He's a killer himself!"

"He's a person," Gus said with a finality that surprised all the occupants including himself. "He still feels."

"He _doesn't feel,_" the detective countered. "He's a cold-blooded murderer."

"Well he sure seemed to feel back there," Shawn shrugged. "Maybe it was a cold winter where he killed. Frostbite?"_  
_

"You cannot _regain_ limbs lost to frostbite," the man in the backseat grumped. "And he did all his killings around Santa Barbara and LA."

"Oh," Spencer shrugged. "How about some gummy _worms_?"

"No!"

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	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Psych isn't mine, blahdeblahdeblah. Thanks for reading/reviewing!**

**Chapter 8**

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"Hey," Juliet met them at the steps up to the police department building, smiling brightly. _Perhaps too brightly_, a relieved Carlton noted vaguely. "What'd you get?"

"Oh, I'm on fire and my sixth sense is feeling really helpful today," the the psychic clapped his hands grandly. "Is there a meeting planned?"

"Um, yeah, Chief has one set in five minutes, you're just in time," she responded quickly, feet shuffling. "Carlton, can I speak to you for a minute?"

"Er, sure," the head detective shrugged. Shawn motioned furiously in the background but was cut off when Lassiter jerked his fist subtly and O'Hara whipped around confusedly to see who he was threatening. She turned back around, a hint of a smile on her face with another emotion that he couldn't quite place.

"Hey," he whispered lowly. "Yeah, he thinks he got something, but honestly I don't know what he could have gotten, all he talked about were his sons and good eggs, my god they were so annoying on the ride there and back I thought I would die, why didn't you come, I missed you, you could have shut them up-" he babbled, his hand automatically finding hers and holding it tightly. She listened to his fusillade of complaints patiently but started sharply when their hands made contact and drew back, head whipping around to check that nobody was around. He jumped back also, eyes confused, flow of words drying up quickly. "What's the matter?"

"I..." a stab of pity shot through her at his tired, dismal expression. "I've been thinking about...us," she started. "And, well, remember what I had said...much earlier. About how I didn't believe in...inter-office relationships."

"O-oh." Carlton's heart sank quickly, gripping the handrail tightly in case he completely lost his rapidly waning balance.

"I don't think this is a good idea," she rushed, looking up imploringly. "It will probably just get in the way of work. I mean, the dates were fun, they really were," her voice rose in pitch and speed as her desperation increased hands waving. "But it's against protocol, you know that, and...well," she shifted uneasily. "I just...don't think this will work out, Carlton."

He leaned back against the rail, taken aback. But it did not take long before a familiar sense of weariness and disappointment washed over him. He met her gray-blue eyes firmly.

"Fine," he said. "I get it. But...just understand," he spoke softly, though nobody was around, drawing closer. Warning lights began blinking vaguely in the junior detective's head, but she only gazed up at him apprehensively as he loomed over her. "That I have been waiting forever for this moment."

"What moment?" she breathed, faces inches away from each other, knowing what would happen but _not knowing_. Afraid. So afraid.

"This."

And barely before the whispered word had escaped his lips, they were pressed upon Juliet's, warm, gentle, his hands at her arms. Cautious. But heartbreakingly loving. She shuddered, a thousand screams flashed through her head that _this_ _was wrong,_ but as much as her mind screamed at her a primal instinct, a couple millions old emotions flaring in the pit of her stomach and forcing her hands to slide up and cup the man's face, pull him closer, breathe him in and keep him in her heart. Her mind shut down. All she knew was that she _needed_ him.

But the moment was over much too quickly.

He extracted himself from her suddenly, and without a word, turned around and entered the building.

The woman was left standing on the foot of the steps. Her breaths came, heavy, shaking, her eyes squeezed shut as a single, tearless sob escaped her lungs. She wanted to cover her face with her hands, let the tears out, drive away, _kick something_. But she could not. Not when work waited, when justice was yet to be found.

She decided to adopt Lassiter's state of mind that had apparently served him so well for so long. Work first, everything else never.

She gathered her snapped nerves, took a deep breath, and followed her senior detective's path up and into the department headquarters.

* * *

"Well, Mr. Spencer," Chief Vick started brusquely as O'Hara entered the room. She duly noted the detectives' avoidance of eye contact, marking it down to determination for the previous warning. "What have you found?"

"Ah, well," he stood up, spreading his arms wide and taking center stage behind the seated Juliet, ushering Lassiter into another vacant seat with some resistance. Gus took his place off to the side, Karen leaned back expectantly. "Let us gather all the information we have, hm?"

"A blond hair was found on the body of Perry Remmler, son of Amy Remmler and murderer, Archie Remmler, who now resides in Lompoc Federal Penitentiary," he paced. "DNA tests still ongoing, but it is hardly needed. Enter Jacob and Emalie Mason, a farming family living at the end of Harrison Street, two and a half lonely miles down from the body. Perry's girlfriend...Lanella Mason, a sister in a family of two brothers and two sisters. Whole family is blond-haired. Interviews for the late Perry and his brother, Parson's friends and family are due to happen...?"

"Today. At five thirty." Juliet supplied.

"Right. However, it's been firmly stated that these two brothers are good children. Over and over again," he shrugged. "And we'll probably hear this again."

"What else...oh yes, it's suspected that a family feud is involved in this. False. Because, obviously, my dear coworkers, one of the Mason brothers is it. A Mason brother, and, oh yes, a sister."

"Because, people, yes, the hair was male. Probably deposited during the murder. The brother had the sister pull the body into a truck, then had the poor girl pull it later into the ditch, so he wouldn't even have to touch it with anything but his bullet." He clapped his hands together proudly and stepped back. The occupants of the office all turned their attentions expectantly to Carlton Lassiter except Juliet. He opened his mouth, but promptly closed it, not sure what to say as he glanced sideways at a cold O'Hara. Chief Vick noticed the tension between the two and a sense of foreboding prickled.

"Okay then," she spoke up authoritatively. "Detectives, do checks on the Mason family and schedule interviews as soon as possible. The meetings with the victims' friends are in an hour and a half. Spencer," the psychic raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Do whatever you've been doing."

The group disbanded. Gus, Shawn, and Karen had sensed the obvious discomfort between the suddenly estranged detective partners, but they wisely kept their distance/silence. Once in a while Juliet would sneak glances over at Lassiter, watching his blank expression as his clear blue eyes ran over the files.

Little did she know that he had been staring at the same sheet of paper for the past five minutes, feeling her stares burning into him and looking up himself when he thought she was not. Once they had managed to stare in unison, but instead of flitting their gazes elsewhere, they held it for a moment. Juliet's lip trembled, and she was dangerously close to the verge of bursting into tears. Eventually it was Carlton who broke contact, looking away indifferently, when honestly, his chest ached just as much as hers.

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